


Escape from Nar Shaddaa

by Gerec



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, M/M, Old Republic Era, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9726563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: Captain James 'Logan' Howlett and his co-pilot Erik Lehnsherr just got an offer they can't refuse - give a rich kid from Alderaan a way off Nar Shaddaa and make twenty thousand easy credits. Of course things are never quite as simple as they seem...Star Wars AU, takes place in The Old Republic timeline.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Mnemo_ink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnemo_ink/pseuds/Mnemo_ink) in the [xmenrarepairs17](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmenrarepairs17) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Star Wars AU!

“Want to tell me again what the hell we’re doing here, Logan? This whole sector stinks like chuba stew.”

Logan sighs, but doesn’t stop walking as he leads the way down the busy thoroughfare and into a side alley. It’s the middle of the afternoon in the Corellian Sector, which means that the gangs are only somewhat visible on the streets, and the shops are all bustling with customers of all shapes and sizes.

“Told you. Ororo calls, I answer.”

Erik grunts, which is both reply and sentiment. “You want to catch up with an ex, you didn’t need to drag me down here too. This place is crawling with Exchange and Shadow Syndicate goons.”

“Don’t forget the bounty hunters. Lotsa those too, all over Nar Shaddaa.”

He gets a glare from his co-pilot, along with a sharp, toothy grin. “Funny. I’d shoot you for the credits, if I thought you’d stay dead.”

They pass a couple of security droids, ducking their heads to avoid being scanned before taking a turn down another run down alley. They pass a small café, and then a couple of swoop bike shops before they finally reach their destination – Storm’s Starship Parts and Repair.

The place looks almost exactly the way Logan remembers it, with bits and pieces of machinery littering the floor and counters. A couple of mechanics – a Rodian and a Twi’lek he doesn’t recognize – are tinkering with some fuel drivers, and spare only a quick glance at the new arrivals before turning back to their work.

“Nice place,” Erik says, eyes scanning the room appreciatively, looking ready to roll up his sleeves and dive in himself; maybe get his hands dirty on a shiny new accelerator. “I can’t believe you gave all this up.”

“Logan doesn’t do ‘nice places’,” Ororo teases, entering with Betsy at her side, looking _damn fine_ in dark leather armor and a new jagged scar across her cheek. She drags him into a hug and then kisses him soundly on the lips, which only serves to make Erik grin with sadistic glee. “Plus he doesn’t like being away from the _Blackbird_ for long. She’s his one true love you know; I could never really compete.”

Erik shakes his head. “Always suspected he was dumber than he looked. Now you’ve just confirmed it.”

“Charming,” Logan retorts, and then, “you have somethin’ for me?”

 She rolls her eyes at him, but seems more amused than annoyed, which bodes well at least for leaving without any new holes in his body.

“Still patient as ever, I see. C’mon then. Got your favorite waitin’ for you in the back.”

\----

True to her word, Ororo hands them a couple of Corellian spiced ales, waving them onto an old, comfortable leather couch in her office. Logan’s been all over the galaxy, drinking his way through all kinds of dives and all types of alcohol, and still nothing quite beats an old fashioned brew from home.

Not that Corellia’s been ‘home’ now for more years than he can count.

“You know it’s always nice to see you, Ororo, but that’s quite the detour you asked us to make,” Erik offers, tracking Betsy like a homing beacon as she whispers something into Ororo’s ear, before heading out of the room, the door sliding behind her with a swoosh. “We were on our way to Ord Mantell.”

“Please,” she replies, waving away his mild protest at having to make an unplanned stop on the Smuggler’s Moon. “If I know you two – and I _do_ – you were due for some down time in the Red Light Sector anyway. Did you head over there yet? And say hello to Angel?”

It’s a good thing that neither of them blush, ‘cause it’s clear from Ororo’s smirk that she knows the whole sordid tale about their last visit to Nar Shaddaa, and the great amount of ale consumed and credits spent at Club Ufora; twenty eight hours that the two of them barely remember, waking from their drunken stupor short one pair of trousers and two expensive modified pistols.

“We were banned from the place, as I’m sure you know,” Logan says, taking a long drink from his bottle, flopping back against the faded cushions. “Now, tell us why we’re here. Please,” he adds, when Ororo narrows her eyes at him, raising one perfectly shaped and unimpressed eyebrow.

“No doubt you’ve heard the news all over the Holonet these past few days,” she starts, clearly deciding to let them off the hook and moving on with business. “A missing noble’s son, running around loose on Nar Shaddaa, evading his body guards and making the locals very, very nervous.”

Erik snorts. “Some kid from Alderaan, on his way to a rich wife on Corellia. What the hell were his people thinking? Stopping _here_ of all places?”

Ororo shrugs, and takes a slow sip of her ale. “I understand the ship had an inexplicable malfunction with its Nav computer. Emergency stop for repairs and the kid gave his handlers the slip as soon as the ship docked.”

“And I assume they’re all in a panic? Trying to find him before he gets picked up by the gangs? Or worse, the Exchange or the Syndicate?” Logan asks, already getting a headache from how much trouble one dumb kid is stirring up. “What? Do you want us to find him? Get him back to his ship before he gets ransomed or picked up by slavers?”

“Not exactly, no,” a new voice floats in from the door Betsy exited earlier, and Erik is already on his feet, his twin blasters pointed at the people filing into the room. No doubt he would have shot first and asked questions later, if Betsy hadn’t been the first one through, followed closely by a female Pantoran – skin blue but with _red_ hair, an anomaly for their species – and a human male, brown hair, early twenties, with gorgeous sky blue eyes and a soft set of pouty red lips–

Wait, what?

“Please, there’s no need for violence, we mean you no harm,” the boy says with painful sincerity, making the Pantoran beside him snort with amusement. “My name is Charles Xavier, of House Xavier on Alderaan, and this is my sister Raven.”

Erik glares at Charles, and then back at Raven, still holding his blasters at the ready. “Really? Sister?”

“Yes. _Sister_ ,” Raven snaps, returning the glare with one of her own, waving a blaster aimed straight at Erik’s heart, previously hidden in the folds of her cloak. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, no problem,” Logan placates, giving Erik a stern look until he relents and holsters his blasters back in his belt. “I don’t know you and I don’t trust you, but I trust Ororo with my life. You've got five minutes. Start talking.”

The sister rolls her eyes with barely concealed annoyance, but Charles lets out a sigh of relief and then offers Logan and then Erik a firm shake of his hand. “I’ll get right to the point. We’ve been able to evade my stepfather’s men fairly easily so far, but we can’t stay here forever. I need transportation off Nar Shaddaa, and I’m willing to pay handsomely for it.”

“No way,” Erik answers, before Logan has a chance to ask anything more – like just _how much_ the rich kid is willing to pay. “Not worth the trouble. He’s from a noble House – a minor one, but their sole heir – and we don’t need to make any enemies on Alderaan. Plus he’s supposed to be on his way to Corellia to marry Lady MacTaggert, and we _really_ don’t want to piss her off, by making off with her genius boy toy here.”

Charles looks abashed at Erik’s diatribe, but the Pantoran is staring at his best friend with a strange gleam in her eye and the tiniest smirk on her lips. “You did your homework! You seem to know an awful lot about my brother already, for someone he’s only just met.”

The implication is barely there, and Charles misses it entirely, but the subtle dig at Erik’s keen interest seems to hit its intended target, making Erik flush red and snarl with vehemence. “We need to know everything that’s happening when we make planet side. It’s part of the job.”

“Raven,” Charles chides, voice warm and fond, which manages to draw a softer, more genuine smile from his sister. “Look, I’m sure this doesn’t interest you, but Lady MacTaggert and I have never even met. The marriage was arranged by my stepfather to get me off Alderaan; she won’t care if I don’t show up at all.”

“Just how much are we talking about here,” Logan interjects, thinking about all the repairs they’ve been putting off on the _Blackbird,_ and maybe taking the crew on a much needed vacation to Zeltros. “If we smuggle you off world, we’d be taking on your stepfather, and maybe the House of MacTaggert too. That’s gonna cost you.”

“And you haven’t even told us where you want to go,” Erik adds, looking more mollified now that they’re discussing actual credits.

“Twenty thousand, to take my sister and I to Typhon,” Charles answers, “half up front, half when we get there.”

Logan’s glee at the ridiculously large number is quickly outweighed by concerns for the intended destination. “Typhon? Why? There’s nothing there but the Jedi Academy. You’re too old to be accepted as a Padawan.”

Charles bites his lip – which for some inexplicable reason makes Logan want to run his thumb against the flesh to sooth it – and turns to his sister, who immediately looks over at Betsy, clearly waiting for some kind of signal. Betsy stares at Logan first and then at Erik, before finally exchanging a quick glance with Ororo, and lets out a long, suffering sigh.

“These two, not terribly smart–”

“Hey!”

“–but they’re decent people, for a couple of smugglers and thieves. You can trust them with your secret.”

Betsy’s assurances, and her hand grasping Raven’s bicep, seems to be enough for the Pantoran, who gives Charles a quick nod. Logan thinks there must be a story there, though it’ll probably have to wait for another day.

“Right,” the kid starts, glancing at his hands before rubbing them absently on his borrowed leather pants. “The thing is…I _have_ been training as a Jedi since I was a child. My family wouldn’t allow it, their only heir being whisked away to the Academy so they made me hide my affinity with the Force. But my Master said– Well, my Master saw the potential in me, and took me on as his Padawan in secret. He was supposed to come and meet me on Ylesia, and take me away to finish my training but he never showed up. So I need to find out what happened to him, and he mentioned teaching on Tython so it seemed like a good place to start.”

Erik is shaking his head before Charles even finishes his story, and immediately barks, “That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard! You were illegally trained by some crazy old coot who doesn’t follow the Jedi Council’s rules, and you want to walk straight into the middle of their School? What if they lock you up? Or do some weird Jedi mind thing to you, for learning their tricks without permission?”

“That’s hardly any of your concern, is it?” Raven counters, her tone cold as ice. “ _I_ will protect Charles from any harm, as I have all our lives. Your only job is to fly us there. Think you can handle that, hot shot?”

“Look, I don’t think–”

Logan gets up off the couch then and walks over to Charles, until he’s looming over him, close enough to touch. He takes in the hard set of the kid’s jaw and the defiant look in his eyes, and curses himself inwardly for what he’s about to say.

“Okay, you got yourself a ride,” he states, to Charles' obvious relief and Erik's disbelieving snort. “What’s the name of your Master again? Didn’t quite catch it.”

Charles’ whole face lights up in a brilliant smile, and Logan finds himself responding instinctively with a slight grin of his own. “Oh it’s Master En Sabah Nur! He’s very wise and kind and patient…you’ll like him. I know it.”

“Sure kid,” he replies, and hopes this whole thing isn’t going to come back and bite him in the ass. “Can’t wait to meet him.”


End file.
